Fret not, lovers of the ex-Mr. Dino Jr.: Though J. Mascis and his band the Fog suffered a crunching car accident in Falkenberg, Sweden, last

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Days of our nights

Fret not, lovers of the ex-Mr. Dino Jr.: Though J. Mascis and his band the Fog suffered a crunching car accident in Falkenberg, Sweden, last weekend, and only two were wearing their seat belts, all have survived with only minor injuries. J. himself seems worst off, cracking two vertebrae, but is said to be already taking a few tentative steps. Maybe he'll make like Gloria Estefan and pull his biggest inspirational slow-jam hit yet, moved by his own tour van crash/spinal injury recovery (remember the Miami Sound Machine diva's "Coming Out of the Dark"? The Grammy people went straight-up cuckoo for that). More likely, though, J. will keep sounding as wonderfully wretched as ever, and the fans will keep loving him for it. DOON wishes him and his bandmates a speedy recovery. . . . In other medical news, the Strokes have been forced to readjust their U.K. tour and madly train a substitute drummer after their own Fab fractured his wrist stepping off the tour bus. The pouty-lipped, Jagger-hipped N.Y.C. band are, according to their manager, "heartbroken" at this turn of events. . . . On to the shows: So yes, Radiohead did a pretty spectacular job at the Gorge this past Saturday, though Thom could probably have played the kazoo out of his butt and enraptured the hyper-adoring crowd. Radiohead Classic and Version 2.0 merged seamlessly in a set that covered nearly all the bases, from a menacing turn on Amnesiac's "You and Whose Army," and propulsive Kid A cross-section of "Idioteque" and dreamy "Motion Picture Soundtrack," to classics like "Karma Police" and "The Bends," on which the band lavished full, glorious guitar treatments. No fewer than three encores kept showgoers bounding between their seats and the parking lot like frantic yo-yos, and intermittently, an odd, unfamiliar expression flashed across Yorke's face; was it, could it be, a smile? Yes, and it was lovely. . . . You didn't think we'd skip

the EMP shows, did you? Not with this much drama. Tuesday night, a one-taco-short-of-a-combo-plate Little Richard dedicated his very long, ad-libbed version of "Happy Birthday" to a mysterious EMI: "EMI, oh my, my, my/whatta great place for you and I/oh my, my my." After a hasty correction from his bandleader, the song was amended to "EMP, that's the place for me/oooh-weeee, EMP." According to our source, when he wasn't talking about how smooth his skin is or how high his cheeks are (seriously), he thumped his Bible, promising everyone a free autographed photo and a copy of "one of his books." A few minutes later, one of his people came into the crowd and passed out some of those Christian propaganda paperbacks with a crappy black-and-white photocopied "signed" promo pic inserted in each one that was, in a word, creepy. . . . Spotted before Public Enemy's show: Flavor Flav, dressed in an alarmingly bright red sweat suit, white cap, and sunglasses, jaywalking across Fifth Avenue to the bafflement of several drivers moments before the band took the stage at the Sky Church. Flav seemed to enjoy his stay in Seattle, as he showed up Friday night to introduce Joan Jett before hitting the stage with Chuck D and Professor Griff to drop old PE favorites like "911 Is a Joke," "Bring the Noise," and "Don't Believe the Hype," with the two S1W soldiers flanking the MCs, a bassist, drummer, and guitarist, and a DJ standing in for the apparently retired Terminator X (who now raises ostriches in Virginia, according to Chuck). In between the hits, Chuck D gave props to the recently departed John Lee Hooker, shouted out the Central District and David Walker, and railed against a Seattle Times article that called the band hypocritical for appearing in a museum that honors Elvis. . . . No one seemed too concerned about such issues later that night at Graceland, where Mouse on Mars played a

brilliant set of motorized grooves and Teutonic funk. The hipster crowd would've kept dancing long into the night if the Mice had obliged. Instead, the German trio were called back for two encores, the second after the crowd began banging rhythmically to entice them. . . . So who stayed home all weekend and hugged their cable box? If you did, you might have seen Seattle's own bar band the Beatniks on VH1's latest game show attempt, Cover Wars. Otherwise, you could have got off your ass and witnessed a few of those wars in the flesh: Jill Sobule playing an encore cover of "All the Young Dudes" into "Que Sera Sera," then back into "All the Young Dudes," and squeezing in a folksy, atonal version of Destiny's Child's "Survivor"(!); and Nada Surf at Graceland on Friday, segueing their song "Stalemate" into Joy Division's "Love Will Tear Us Apart," back into "Stalemate." Pinch us if that doesn't deserve a cash prize or at least a new toaster. . . . It's fair to say that the majority of people who went to the Sit & Spin Friday night were there to see either the New Original Sonic Sound or Holly Golightly. The gold star for the evening, however, goes to Georgia-based garage stompers the Woggles. The tambourine was a weapon in the hands of lead singer Manfred "The Professor" Jones, who shimmied, hopped, and got down on his knees in the beer and filth like a true preacher at the ultimate rock 'n' roll revival. . . . Thursday night, the Showbox opened its new pre-funk bar Green Room in the old Rudy's Vintage Clothing space to a crowd that included well- wishers Krist Novoselic and members of Death Cab for Cutie and the Murder City Devils. . . . For every birth, there is a death. DOON stopped by Ileen's (n饠Ernie Steele's) on its last night and was surprised to find none of the usual washed-up local rock stars present. When questioned about the Broadway drinking

institution's closure, Ileen remarked that she was very sick and had two other businesses to run; when pressed further as to whether she had any special feelings on the last night, she just shook her head and kept putting away glasses. Shortly thereafter, she expertly threw a lime in the eye of a gentleman who was saying she owed him money. We'll miss you too, sweetie.

Send sightings, news flashes, and bitchy bits to nights@seattleweekly.com.

 
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